


Butterfly Mask

by pleasurific



Series: TW Kink Bingo [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anonymous Sex, F/M, Masks, Parent/Child Incest, Sex Club, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 16:06:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16222565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleasurific/pseuds/pleasurific
Summary: There are hands on her as she walks, fingers brushing her bare arms as she passes people, little jolts of electricity sending sparks through her.There’s something she’s looking for. Someone.





	Butterfly Mask

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober 2018: masks  
> Teen Wolf Kink Bingo square: age difference
> 
> Please heed the tags.

It’s a different kind of party. Allison wanders through the room and watches, her sheer dress brushing against the naked skin underneath it. Her vision is a little restricted by the mask on her face, an intricate lace one in the shape of a butterfly that’s covering most of her features. The extensions in her hair—blonde ones that contrast with her own dark curls—are tickling her shoulders as she moves, another little thing to make her as anonymous as possible.

There are hands on her as she walks, fingers brushing her bare arms as she passes people, little jolts of electricity sending sparks through her.

There’s something she’s looking for. Some _one_. Several someones really, though she’s not expecting any of those people to actually be here. A flash of red hair catches her eye for a second and she turns, then sighs when it’s not the right shade, not the right length. She keeps looking, eyes catching on a mop of dark curly hair, then on an almost familiar tall figure with brown curls. It could be them, it could be anyone. It doesn’t matter tonight because everyone’s face is obscured somehow.

She’s almost about to give up when she sees him.

Standing in the corner, fingers tucked in the belt loops as he leans against the wall. There’s no mistaking the fleur-de-lis tattoo on his shoulder, she’s seen it often enough. Her own is in a more discreet spot, in a lighter color so she knows that unless someone’s looking for it, it can’t be seen. Especially not now, not here, not in the dim lights of the room.

Chris looks over and for a breathless moment Allison wonders if he’ll recognize her, if the lace on her face is enough to distract him from the eyes he knows so well. After all, he’d seen them for almost two decades, almost every day.

He has a mask too, a simple dark bandana with cut-outs that only accentuates his bright blue eyes, a black strip of fabric across his face that for most everyone else will be enough to keep him anonymous. Not for her though.

She knows the details of his face too well. The grey in his beard and his hair, the lines on his forehead, the exact shade of his eyes. She knows the curve of his lips and the lines of his neck, the angle of his shoulders and arms.

There’s hesitation in her movements as she walks closer, her eyes downcast as she’s afraid of being recognized if she looks at him directly for too long. Her eyes are framed with dark eyeliner, one she doesn’t wear outside of these parties, but she’s still unsure. So when she’s next to him, she twists and turns around, avoids their faces coming too close.

His hands leave the belt loops and land on her hips, moving the thin fabric that’s not really covering her. She turns so her back is to his chest and lets him touch, lets his hands wander, her own lightly on top of them as he starts touching. She can feel his breath against her neck and shoulder, his fingertips pressing against her skin, the warmth making her shiver and lose her breath. When he slides his hands under the sheer dress and towards the inside of her thighs, she parts them just a little, hoping he’ll see it as an invitation.

She’s not disappointed. He moves them so she’s facing the wall, his chest pressed against her back. Allison braces herself on the wall and arches her back just enough that she can feel his dick against her ass. Then his hand moves between them, the sound of the zipper being pulled down barely audible in the noise of the club. She wants to complain about the momentary distance between them but he’s back in a flash, hands on her hips and pushing the fabric that’s still covering her out of the way.

His knee slides between her legs and nudges them, making her spread them apart more. She knew that she was wet, turned on by the party’s purpose, by the touches from strangers, then more so by him, and she feels it now when air hits her pussy as her legs move apart.

Then his hand slides from her hips to the front, calloused finger dipping under the fabric and through the trimmed curls that cover her mound. She shivers when his finger slides over her clit and then further, spreading the wetness over her lips and parting them. Then he returns the fingers to her clit and rubs circles around it until she’s trembling, arching her back, pushing her hips back and her ass against his rock hard cock. Finally, he takes mercy on her.

His free hand moves between them and moves his cock down, the head slipping between the lips of her cunt, then forward against her clit where his fingers are still moving in maddening circles.

“Please,” she whispers.

Maybe he hears her. Maybe it’s too noisy for her plea to reach his ears. Either way, he grips her hips again with both hands and pulls back, then moves forward at a different angle. The head of his cock catches on her entrance, easily moving between the lips where she’s soaking wet, clenching down around nothing, wanting. Two more movements of his hips and then he slides inside, his cock filling her in a slow motion until he’s bottomed out and deep inside her. She moans quietly and clenches the walls of her pussy, barely hearing the pleased grunt from behind her.

It’s like there’s fire burning inside of her, spreading from his cock all through her body. She dreamed about this, imagined it, fucked herself with toys while she thought about him. But this, her hips held in his firm grip, his cock moving inside her, knowing that this time it’s really him—it’s so much better than anything her imagination could’ve come up with.

Allison arches her back again her hands braced on the wall in front of her, her eyes closed as she feels him leaning forward, his hands moving from her hips. One slides down and back to her clit, making her shudder when his fingers slide over it. The other hand goes up, moving under the sheer fabric until he reaches her breasts and his rough fingertips rub over her nipples. He cups one breast and then tweaks her nipple, humming in approval when her pussy clenches around his cock in response.

She’s already on edge though they barely started. Her whole body is humming and it shouldn’t be this easy, it’s never this effortless for her to start trembling with an orgasm, whether she’s alone or with someone else. She knows why it’s different now, why her body is reacting so strongly, why each of the strokes of his fingers against her clit and against her nipples are sending tremors through her.

It’s him. It’s the fact that she wanted this for so long, a cumulative effect of all the times when she’d bite her hand to stay silent as she rubbed her clit in her room, with only a thin wall between them, half hoping he wouldn’t hear her, half hoping that he would. It’s a culmination of all the times when she caught glimpses of him walking naked from the bathroom into his bedroom, the times when she learned to be silent enough sneaking around the house and getting a peek at his cock. The time when he didn’t close his bedroom door—she was supposed to be spending the night at Lydia’s—and she came home early, passing by his room on the way to hers. She barely resisted walking in on him as he jerked off then, but she did file away the glimpse she caught and thought about it that same night, her fingers deep in her pussy, imaging it was him.

It is him now, fucking her bare, using her in ways she always wanted. It’s him breathing behind her, holding her closer as her legs and arms tremble and refuse to keep her upright. It’s him that she sees when she opens her eyes and realizes that the wall she’s bracing herself on is a mirror. It’s his familiar body, no longer just a fantasy.

Her orgasm hits before she can gather the courage to look up and meet his eyes in the mirror. She clenches down around him and he stills, dick deep inside her while her body rolls with the waves of her climax, her knees shake as she gasps out. While she’s still shaking, he starts moving again, the arm that was teasing her breasts now around her waist, holding her up. He steps forward, pressing her closer to the mirrored wall, the coolness of the surface sending another jolt through her as her nipples touch it. He’s closer now and when she turns her head she can see the side of his face, the lines on his forehead and the salt and pepper in his hair. There’s no more denying that it’s just someone similar.

“Come on, baby girl,” he whispers as he continues fucking her. “So beautiful when you come. Let me see again.”

Allison sighs, her next orgasm already building. She lifts her arms and winds them behind her head, around his. He’s holding her up now, her feet barely touching the ground, jerking upwards with every push of his hips against her. She’s arched perfectly, ass pressing into his crotch, shoulders back against his chest, her body pressed into the mirror in front. She can’t see him anymore but she can hear the whispers, the encouragement, the pleas for her to come again.

It takes longer this time, the initial boost of arousal gone with the first orgasm. But as he continues stroking her clit as he fucks deep into her the waves build and build, the rhythm steady and his cock filling her in all the right ways.

When she comes again, it’s with a moan falling from her lips, one that could give her away—not that she’s coherent enough to consider that.

 _Daddy, please_ , she thinks a moment later when he repositions her again, stepping back. Her body is pliant under his touch and she moves the way he makes her.

He guides her hands to the mirror as he pulls her hips back and then presses gently into her spine until she’s bent over, head dropped between her arms. He nudges her legs apart a little more, just enough that his hips align with hers—she’s not taller than him but her legs are longer—his cock never moving out of her.

When he starts moving again, when his cock starts sliding in and out, she lifts her head so she can watch. Having come twice in such a short time, she’s not sure if she can again, but the sight that greets her in the mirror is enough to make her think she might. He meets her eyes then, locks their gazes and drives his cock into her purposefully, his hands on her hips, holding her in place. Her lips fall open and she lets out a gasp with each thrust he makes.

It’s when he moves his hand again that she tips from a maybe right into the verge of her next climax. His fingers dip between her ass cheeks and rub over the pucker between them, only teasing sliding in—she’s not prepped, but she’s sensitive enough right now that it’s enough. Her head drops between her arms again and she doesn’t pay attention to his movements—other than the rhythmic thrusts of his cock—until he’s pulling her upright again just as he pushes his cock inside one more time, as deep as it can go.

One hand around her torso and pulling her against his body, the other between her legs and rubbing her clit, she can feel his cock throbbing inside her as he comes, his hot breath against her neck. It’s all that and then the words that slip from his lips in a hushed tone that make her tremble all over again, clenching around him with the final orgasm that leaves her breathless and limp against him.

“Ally, baby, show me how you come for me,” he whispers just before she does.

She’s not sure how they manage to keep standing, but they do—Chris’s arm around her steadier than any part of her own body. It’s only when his cock finally slips out and she feels the come dripping down her thighs that they move. He leads her away from the mirrored wall and to a couch nearby that she didn’t notice before, too focused on _him_.

There's silence—besides the murmur of everything and everyone around them, which feels distant and miles away right now—and Allison replays that last whisper in her mind. It was definitely her name he said. He knows. 

She slumps down on the couch, his come staining the fabric as she does so, the sheer dress clinging to her sweat-damp skin. She could take the mask off now, it's obviously pointless, but they're not alone and it's a barrier she wants to keep up. Chris keeps his bandana on too as he sits next to her, his pants zipped up again and his chest heaving with deep breaths. He doesn't speak, but he gently puts a hand on her knee—it's shaking, hesitant, like he's not sure he's allowed, despite what they just did. Allison lifts her head up and looks him in the eyes, the blue eyes that she knows so well. 

It's the only thing she can focus on: the way his pupils dilate when she looks at him, the way his head jerks forward like he wants to lean in for a kiss. So she nods a fraction and moves closer. There's a shiver that runs through his body—she's close enough to feel it— and his lips part. 

"Okay," he says, breathless. "Okay."

Then his hand slides around her side, his arm wraps around her waist and he lifts her up and moves her so she's facing him, kneeling on the couch with her legs around his thighs, his come dripping out of her onto his pants. She only closes her eyes when she dips her head and kisses him, her own hands gripping his shoulders. 

 _Okay_. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](https://pleasurific.tumblr.com/) too!


End file.
